


Toy Soldier

by Iliascorvus



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: (sorta?), Angst, Book 5: The Last Olympian, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliascorvus/pseuds/Iliascorvus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A close reading of The Battle of Manhattan from the point of view of Will Solace</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toy Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to my favorite lil grizzly Claire!!! Ily and hope you have an awesome day!! <3 
> 
>  
> 
> Note: Terpsichore is the muse of dancing

Will Solace knelt over the body of his oldest sister, the golden shroud she had been covered in only partially obscuring her face. Will was the one who had rushed her to the makeshift infirmary set up in the Plaza Hotel, her leg bleeding profusely after it had been hacked off by a bloodthirsty dracaenae. She had been one of the Apollo cabin’s best archers, and a magnificent musician and healer. A vibrant life full of promise and hope. Now she lay pale and lifeless on the ground, just another fallen soldier.

Will’s mother had always told him that war was spiteful, but now he was witnessing it. The Apollo cabin had already buried a brother after the Battle of the Labyrinth. Another sibling had been dragged away by a hellhound as the rest of them watched, powerless to help. Their leader, Michael Yew, was missing. Yet Will’s siblings still fought, because the war still waged on.

Will could feel the tear trails drying on his face as he stood up, wincing as his muscles protested painfully. He was exhausted. Healing Annabeth’s poisoned wound had taken much of the little energy he had left. But the war wouldn’t stop for him, and more people died while he sat there grieving uselessly.

 _It’s just like that one saying,_ Will thought, _the show must go on!_ He almost expected one of his siblings to shout, _“break a leg!”_ as he strode back out to the battlefield.

 _And he probably would break a leg._ Cars and wreckage were strewn about in the street, weapons from monsters and demigods alike littering the pavement.

The distant din of battle, metallic clanging of sword on sword and mangled shouting of fighting soldiers, echoed from the west. The dull, tired ache in Will's muscles was nothing compared to the cool dread pooling in his gut as he jogged towards the fray.

When he finally arrived his eyes jumped from one wounded person to another, his senses trying to gauge which ones needed his help most, and which ones were already beyond hope. His mind raced wildly, and adrenaline pumped through his veins as he danced through the fighting like a madman. Ducking and spinning, leaping and dodging as he dragged injured demigods, friend and enemy alike, out of the fray. The siblings that had seen him later remarked he looked like he had been blessed by Terpsichore, frantically leaping in and out of battle and hardly gaining a scratch.

But even that wouldn't save everyone. Will’s father was the god of truth, and Will wasn’t blind. No matter how many warriors he pulled from the fighting, more went down in their place. His healers gift only saved so many lives, patched up so many wounds, before he had to rest, or risk collapsing and becoming collateral damage.

Even after the war had been won, there was no reprieve. Too many people were hurt, or bleeding, or getting infections. Will could count the number of hours he slept that week on one hand. By the time all the wounded were in a stable condition, the Apollo campers were even more exhausted than their patients.

The camp celebrated, of course. Shouts of victory rang through the air as people cheered on their heroes. Will tried to be happy, he really did. The bright smile he plastered on his face threatened to split his lips as he watched over his surviving siblings and friends. But too many of them were dead. Too many people he hadn’t been able to save.

Michael was one of those now. The Apollo cabin’s relief that the rest of their patients would survive had been splintered by Chiron's announcement. But Apollo's children needed a leader, and so Will was chosen as the next head counselor. His siblings had turned to look at him, grief for Michael, and hope for him, shining in their eyes.

Will would lead his siblings now. Because if he couldn’t have saved all those others, he could at least help his siblings heal.

Will sat beneath the shadow of a large tree, absentmindedly wrapping and unwrapping an ace bandage around his wrist. He carried it with him all the time now. A reminder of the siblings he had lost and the war they had won. A cool breeze brushed past his face as he stood up, muscles protesting from lack of use after the hours he had sat there, staring at everything and nothing. He turned towards the setting sun, where the distant sounds of campers sparring floated across the grass. Metal clanged on metal, arrows thunked into wooden targets, and Will strode towards home.


End file.
